was both anger and pain.
Was his mother to hear her son accused as a thief?

"David," said his friend solemnly, "it is at a time like this that our
trust in God stands us in stead. There is nothing to be dismayed at, if
you are innocent."

"If!" said David, with a gasp.

"Ay! `if!' Your mother herself might say as much as that. And you have
not said that the charge is a false one yet."

"I did not think I should need to say so to you!"

"But you see, my lad, I am not speaking for myself. I was bidden ask
you the question point blank, and I must give your answer to him that
sent me. My word is another matter. You must answer to him."

"To Mr Oswald, I suppose? Why should he suspect me? Has he been
suspecting me all these weeks? Was that the reason he wished nothing
said about it in the office?"

"That was kindly meant, at any rate; and you needna' let your eyes flash
on me," said Mr Caldwell, severely. "Don't you think it has caused him
much unhappiness to be obliged to suspect you?"

"But why should he suspect _me_?"

"There seemed to be no one else. But he must speak for himself. I have
nothing to say for him. I have only to carry him your answer."

"I will answer him myself," said David, rising, as though he were going
at once to do it. But he only walked to the window and stood looking
out.

"David," said Mr Caldwell, "put away your books, and come home with
me."

"No, I cannot do that," said David, shortly.

He did not turn round to answer, and there was not another word spoken
for a while. By and by Mr Caldwell rose, and said, in his slow way:

"David, my lad, the only thing that you have to do in this matter is to
see that you bear it well. The accusation will give but small concern
to your mother, in comparison with the knowledge that her son has been
indulging in an angry and unchristian spirit." And then he went away.

He did not go very far, however. It was getting late, and, in the
gathering darkness, and the unaccustomed silence of the place, the house
seemed very dreary and forsaken to him, and he turned back before he
reached the gate.

"David," said he kindly, opening the door, "come away home with me."

But David only answered as he had done before.

"No, I cannot do that."

He said it in a gentler tone, however, and added:

"No, I thank you, Mr Caldwell, I would rather not."

"It will be dreary work staying here with your sore and angry heart.
You need not be